Many many interesting things have happened since I last blogged, but I can’t be bothered to tell you about them. You’ll probably find out most of it from other people’s blogs, anyway. “Why,” I hear you cry, “are you writing this, then?”. My answer, dear reader, is that I am a kind and noble blogger who could not bear simply to abandon you without a word for too long a period of time. My other reason is that I’m too hot too focus on reading my book or doing anything else vaguely productive.

I will now briefly point out how much I hate the heat. I feel sluggish and lethargic the whole time. I’m terrified of getting skin cancer if I go out. I can’t get to sleep because I’m too hot. I can’t focus on anything. I went swimming in Tooting Lido yesterday with my mother (because I am a cool teenager), and it was exceedingly pleasant, but now I am perputually fantasising about returning to that lovely cold water.

So you see, o reader, what a difficult and strenuous time I am having, but how I am forcing myself to write this for your saje, and yours alone. Frankly, I hope you appreciate it.

Good evening.

Very little has happened today, and I am bored. I have been whiling away the days on teenage fiction and Zoombinis. At some point I will read Tristram Shandy and pretend I understand it.

On Sunday it was my fake-birthday. My real birthday was on the fifth, but this was mid-exam-time, and so, along with the birthdays of my sister and father, it was postponed until Sunday. My parents are giving me a bicycle, which is good. In the evening I saw Ella and Scarlett. We planned to create an in-joke about melons in order to frighten a mutual enemy. We also read a script about a girl who carries her used pregnancy test around without her mum noticing. And that wasn’t some weird surrealist device.  I won’t write any more about Sunday, as it was a very pleasant day, but little actually happened which I can record without making you, dear reader, fall asleep at the computer and dribble on the keyboard. This could be dangerous – maybe you would be electrocuted.

Then it was Monday. That was book return day. A pointless exercise involving getting up at six to go into school for only an hour and give back textbooks and then be talked at for a few minutes about Work Experience. However, the latter part of the day was pleasant. I had a long conversation with Livvi about why homicide is bad. This was pleasant, but not unusual. Then we went and sat in Borders’ Starbucks with various people, which was lovely. We talked about Disney Movies – I maintain that Mulan and The Lion King are the best two. We disussed other things as well, I am sure, but I cannot quite remember what. They were definitely very interesting, though. Imogen, Livvi and I then browsed shops. I made the exciting discovery that in Kingston there is an underground Waitrose! It is clearly made for Secret Spies. I’m slightly afraid of being murdered by them now that I’ve seen their secret headquarters. It is a headquarters which contains cakes shapes like cats and biscuits with sheep on them. I am in awe.

Very little has happened today apart from my playing a game with my brother which resulted in us making up a story about mysterious creatures called “scapes”.

I do not think that this blog is much more interesting than the last one, even though I am trying to make it more so. It is possibly even less interesting. Terribly sorry. Must try harder.

I’m back.

I have a summer before me and I’ve decided that I might as well blog upon occasion, as I read everyone else’s blogs, so I feel as though I’m taking and giving nothing back.

So this is me, giving back.

Today, I took a train back from Dorset, as I had been staying in Jess’ house there.  I spent the journey reading Harry Potter in French and dozing. I think my tiredness was due to tea withdrawal.

I’m sure you’re aching to hear what happened in Dorset. Basically, Jess and I did a lot of walking, a lot of tea-drinking,  and a lot of watching telly.  Here are some of the things which were discussed:-

1) My fear of cows, and other large animals. I am basically afraid of being trampled. This may be to do with childhood trauma from watching The Lion King.

2) Fork-dropping. This comes from an interview with Linda Thompson which Jess heard, in which Ms Thompson said that she and, I believe her son, were in a cafe eating, when the Beatles’ Revolver came on, “and it was so good that we dropped our forks”. Therefore, “fork-droppingly good” is now a phrase, and one must drop a fork whenever one hears a Beatles song. This is actually quite inconvenient.

3) Mitchell and Webb. They are the men of the hour. Mitchell has, according to Caitlin Moran, “the flashing eyes of a gypsy violinist”, and we are trying to find him a wife. Webb already has one of these, and will soon have a baby as well. He also has fascinating cheekbones. Jessica may make me gingerbread effigies of these two boys at some point.

There you go. You are now included in most of our in-jokes, so you can feel like you were there, walking along country lanes, getting pink-cheeked and sturdy-legged.

I wonder how long it will take people to realise I’ve started blogging. Sorry if this post is dull. I promise to try harder in the future.

Randomation

blob.

I am only really writing this because I feel I ought to have an actual real life blog on my first day of blogness. I am also fairly bored.

Livvi and my’s theme for the day is chivalry. She is therefore now Sir Olivia, Chevalier de Cheam (which must be pronounced sheem, as this is Frenchiness), and I am her fair maiden.

I have also been pretending to be a bear with glittery claws.

In history we swapped around seats and all pretended to be each other (which was a huge fail as Leonard, Amy and I – the ones doing the pretending – are all so darn individual.) As a result of that lesson I now have some mysterious Chinese and Korean writing on my arm. If I could be bothered, I’d take a picture of it and upload, to show you. But I can’t. So I won’t.

I have a feeling I’m meant to have handed in a drama essay. Ah well. It doesn’t matter anyhow.

The sign language for physics is now to bang your forehead with your fist three times.

I am sorry if this has been completely nonsensical. It’s just the way I think. I’ll try to improve my blog technique in future.

Much love, my loves.

xxx